


What He Sees

by Lightbulbs



Category: Prince of Persia - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Don't copy to another site, F/M, The Two Thrones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightbulbs/pseuds/Lightbulbs
Summary: The Dark Prince wonders what the Prince sees in Farah.





	What He Sees

“ _Tell me, Prince. What do you see in that woman?_ ”

The Prince was swinging through the upper city, his dagger latching onto building facades and ornamental stonework. As he hefted himself over the edge of a roof, he spat out, “What do you care?”

“ _If I’m to share a body with you,_ ” said the Dark Prince in his low, hissing voice, “ _I need to understand your motivations, your desires._ “ A pause. _“And your desire for that woman is obvious._ ”

The Prince could feel the heat on his cheeks. He took a running leap, jumping across a gulf spanning a precarious drop.

“ _Why bother seeking her out?_ ” asked the Dark Prince again, this time more plaintive, curious.

The Prince sighed. He decided to rest for a moment, getting his bearings from the elevated vantage point. He scanned the city below. There weren’t any people around, although with the vizier’s mad siege, it was no wonder. Two sand-touched guards roamed the side streets, gold swirling around them like a poisonous miasma.

“She…” the Prince began, then trailed off. He jumped down, spearing one of the guards so that it crumbled to sand. The air smelled faintly of earth and iron. The other guard spotted him, and he swung around, his dagger flashing as he rewound time and ducked under a brutal stab to the shoulder.

“ _She?_ ”

“I’m busy here!” the Prince growled. Even though his shoulder had been healed by the time shift, phantom pain left him grimacing. Weaving and ducking as he parried a blow, he took advantage of the terrain to wall-run behind the guard. A few well-timed stabs of his own, and the guard fell in a heap.

The Prince sighed, sheathing his dagger and wiping sweat from his brow. Judging by the number of guards, a portal should be… ah. He smiled grimly at the sight of the sand portal, golden light spewing out with painful brightness.

He plunged his dagger into its heart, and it seized for a moment before shutting down entirely. Strength stirred within him.

“ _Are you busy now?_ ” sneered the Dark Prince.

The Prince rolled his eyes, striding away from the now-deactivated portal. He lunged upwards, catching the lip of a thin score line running along the building’s surface. He made his way over to another tower, handhold by careful handhold. Leaping, he rolled onto a rooftop.

A moment to breathe. His chest heaved, and his muscles ached from the strain. The sky roiled with ash and smoke.

“She is brave,” he finally said. He could feel the Dark Prince’s interest stirring, although the sand creature said nothing. “Braver than all the men in my guard.”

“ _That is not enough_.”

“For all your talk of power, I would think bravery should be commendable.” The Prince spotted another group of soldiers, all heading upwards. He would be too easy to spot. He sighed, taking a running leap and heading back down to the lower levels.

Along the ground, he assessed the empty storefronts and splintered doors. He saw spilled blood, old weapons. The thought of his people going through such horror sickened him. As he looked out from between two squat buildings, he wedged himself into a small nook, using it as the locus for a tricky jump.

“ _Any fool can be brave._ ” At the sudden reply, the Prince fumbled. His fingers floundered on a low-hung sconce, and he landed in a painful heap.

“Why must you do that?” the Prince snapped, leaning back into the ache along his shoulders. He closed his eyes—a dangerous move, but he was so tired—and tried to hold back the frustration simmering within him.

“ _Do what?_ ”

The Prince didn’t answer. As he thought of Farah, his muscles began to unknot. He brow unfurrowed. Finally, he said, “Her skin blossoms under sunlight. Her eyes are like jewels cut by the finest craftsman. When she sets her mind to something, she grips it with the ferocity of a tigress.”

“ _So she's a jeweled tiger lily._ _Are you blinded by her beauty or her competence?_ ” The sarcasm was obvious.

The Prince stood, stretching tall so that his skin pulled taut against his ribs. “Both.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” muttered the Dark Prince. “ _Forget I asked._ ”

Yes, he had reasons to fight. For his people, who suffered. For his father, who was surely fighting for them in his stead. For the woman… he loved.

With a smile, the Prince broke out into a run, heading deeper into the city.


End file.
